


Waltz for two

by Tyrelingkitten



Category: Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Twosetweek, alternative universe, twosetviolin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23920081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyrelingkitten/pseuds/Tyrelingkitten
Summary: Something is missing.AU. Not beta'd.
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	Waltz for two

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 - Memories
> 
> Late for the twosetweek, but uh, here is my offer. I hope this also counts?

Something is missing.

Brett would sit down after buying coffee and turn to his right to hand over the extra one. Then he pauses in mid-motion, because there’s no one there. So he furrows his brows, tilts his head to the side and wonders why he even bought two cups of coffee in the first place. It’s not like he is the type to buy extras and consume them in one sitting.

It has been happening for a while too. 

Like the time when he enjoys watching an anime series so much, he thinks of suggesting it to a friend and pulls up his phone to open the chat group, only to freeze for a second. He blinks at the app he has opened and tries to recall which friend on his list actually enjoys anime like he does, mentally going through each name on his call list before ending with no name and closes the chat group in disappointment.

Or like that time when he is passionately defending his stance in a group discussion with his colleagues, he unconsciously turns to look to his right in the hopes of finding extra support but then frowns when the person standing there doesn’t fit whoever Brett has thought of at first.

Or that time he finds the viola in the deep ends of his closet, buried underneath boxes of old clothes and shoes and a sense of fondness expands in his chest, engulfing him in nostalgia. He remembers being upset when he was given the viola on his birthday, but the blow was softened by a teasing laughter and... something else, a warm hug? 

To this day, Brett doesn’t know who had given the viola to him. He doesn’t remember why that person would gift him a viola when Brett has always been adamant about playing the violin. 

Or those times when Brett wakes up sobbing into his pillows, curled up in a fetal position, his right hand stretched out to the empty space of his bed.

There seems to be a gap in his memory, he realizes when he checks the extra bubble tea he has unconsciously ordered, and it isn’t a flavor he would usually go for.

He wants to talk to someone about this, about the suspicions that he might be living wrong, missing a limb of sorts, a phantom presence that seems to shadow him around but never becomes real. Is he haunted by someone? Is he going crazy? Is his mind deceiving him? Or is he a ghost living the life of someone who is different from his own? Is he dissociating himself from what is familiar?

His brother looks at him uncomprehendingly when Brett tries to explain his… episodes. His parents think he is going through a phase and tell him that he needs to stop talking about “going crazy” when no Yang has ever gone crazy for centuries. Ray, a friend he hardly sees, wonders if he is living the life similar to déjà vu. Phoebe, his other friend in orchestra, suggests talking to a medical professional, which is the most helpful advice Brett has ever received since his quest for answers.

But finding the right professional to lay down his worries is hard. Google, for all its fast results, isn’t that much helpful. He has gone through forums, webmd sites and even some questionable sites that sent his anti-virus beeping until he finally decides to check in on his Family Physician. She helpfully writes him an introduction note to a specialist and hands him a list of licensed Psychologists and Psychiatrists to choose from.

The decision to go for one of them on the list hasn’t been easy.

Two nights of partying too hard to fill the hole he has been missing for years before becoming too disgustingly close with the floor and the toilet the day after, had been the eye-opening experience to get help. Brett doesn’t remember digging his nails into his forearms and dragging them deep into his skin to leave wounds. But he remembers the burning and the pain that would distract him from the gaping emptiness of something not being right, something not there where it is supposed to be.

He googles them all at home to locate their practice, reads up on their official websites and checks their online pictures just to have an overall impression of Psychologists and Psychiatrists. It takes him over two weeks of procrastinating and researching to finally decide on a Psychiatrist.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Chen. How can I help you?” The Psychiatrist greets and the corners of his mouth twitches upwards in a tired smile. 

Brett has his brows furrowed ever since he has stepped into the office. Something is off at first but when he studies the Doctor closer, everything seems to fall into place.

“It’s you.” Brett blurts out before he can stop himself.

Doctor Chen’s expression doesn’t change, unaffected, except for a flash of surprise in his eyes. He indicates for Brett to take a seat across his desk and uses that practiced smile again. “What brings you here, Mr. Yang?”

For a moment Brett hesitates, something is wrong, or out of place, his heart is hammering too loud in his ears, his hands are sweaty, his lungs are leaking air. Is this another anxiety attack? He quickly looks around the office for a distraction, listing the things he sees: diplomas displayed against the wall, a bookshelf with files and books, comfortable lounge chair for guests, opened laptop with a printer nearby, reading lamp, lots of light through the windows, dark carpet beneath his shoes...

“Breathe, Mr. Yang. Breathe.” Doctor Chen’s voice is soothing and calm as he rubs Brett’s back to keep him grounded. The hand on Brett’s back is large but firm. The subtle cologne the doctor wears makes Brett twitch his nose. Although the doctor is close, Brett feels he is foreign, looking in from the outside.

And then the sensation of uneasiness is gone, as if a heavy burden is lifted away. 

“Let’s start from the beginning.” Doctor Chen has changed their seating arrangement, sitting in the guest chair and letting Brett take the lounge chair.

Brett takes a deep breath and starts with, “There’s been something or someone missing in my memories. I can’t seem to recall them.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
